


The Bob Files

by Mageless



Category: The Dresden Files (TV), The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: F/M, idk - Freeform, just drabbles, plot?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:21:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24497854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mageless/pseuds/Mageless
Summary: A collection of Bob ficlets from the Dresden files, I’ll leave the chapter descriptions at the start of the chapters along with any specific warnings
Relationships: Bob the Skull/Karrin Murphy
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. Café Conversations (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Characters: Bob, Murphy and Dresden  
> Relationships: Mild Murphy/Bob I guess.  
> Rating: General-ish. Some swearing and mild Bob being Bob.  
> Bob finally gets another ride along, but he wasn’t in the mood for another orgy. Instead, he took himself to a local coffee shop for a hot drink and a slice of cake, and when the rain started he just decided to enjoy the outside world for what it was. Murphy, who had a rare day off and had only really came to the coffee shop out of habit sat near him, and the troublesome spirit recognised her and just *had* to start up a conversation.

It was raining. The vicious, electric kind of rain that made Bob expect Harry to be fighting a demon, dramatically waving his staff about under the moonlight and slinging his spells with the wizard’s usual gung-ho excitement and little finesse. The coffee shop was over packed, sopping wet and reluctant customers buying the cheapest drinks on the menu, anything to avoid the distinct possibility of being struck by lightning and battered by the storm outside. The waitress, a young and very attractive woman called Leena (Bob had been in the shop for hours, and had grown at least a little familiar with the staff) rolled her eyes in annoyance at yet another chime of the doors, at yet another person taking shelter from the maelstrom outside. This one was short, petite. Cute as a button with shining golden hair, but with sharp blue eyes and a face that was frozen in an eternal glower. Bob blinked, his eyes running up and down the woman’s body. Not with lechery, mind, but instead just surprise. Murphy had never met Bob, but he had met her, or at least he had looked into her when neither she nor Harry had been paying any attention. He really shouldn’t have done it, not when he knew that Harry would throw his skull into a volcano if he found out, but before his brain -or perhaps more accurately his soul- could tell him no the body that Bob was inhabiting had shot to his feet, pulling out a chair in a simulacrum of Harry’s idiotic chivalry. 

“Lieutenant!” Greeted bob, throwing the detective a slight smirk and a polite nod. “Can I buy you a drink?” 

—

Annoyingly, Murphy didn’t actually have anything to do. It wasn’t that she didn’t have hobbies to do on her days off (rare as they were), but she just couldn’t work up the motivation to actually do any of them. It had been a stressful week, the kind that started with blood and ended with blood and had a whole lot of maiming in between. The kind she needed Harry for. The kind that she was starting to admit she just couldn’t handle by herself. Any week with Harry was draining, and after the mountain of paper work she had just finished she needed a drink. All things considered, she chose coffee. It was better than the alternative. 

Murphy trod through the rain, not even bothering to raise an umbrella against its advances as she looked up at the thunder in the sky, letting the Luke-warm droplets pelt her face as she closed her eyes and walked. The streets were relatively empty at this time of night -especially with this weather- and she had walked the route so many times that for the most parts she didn’t really need to see to navigate it. When she finally got to Bart’s it was packed, the wooden flooring sopping wet and all of the tables full, people sat on the window ledges and stood around near the old brick fireplace on the left side. Apparently, she would have to get her coffee to go. Not a preferable choice when she knew it would start to taste like rain halfway through the cup, but she didn’t really have much of a choice and the crowd wasn’t really doing much to help her headache. That was until she heard a voice, low and rich and tinted with pleasant surprise calling out her rank, giving her a reason to stay. 

Murphy ordered her coffee to go, but she gave the man in front of her the benefit of the doubt and sat down in his offered seat whilst she waited, narrowing her eyes at him in suspicion when she didn’t find him immediately familiar. He looked to be in his mid twenties (he was not), dressed in a ridiculous silk shirt that nobody this century could possibly pull off (and yet he did) and a lazy yet keen smirk, one that set Murphy on edge. This man knew her, knew her on sight, and yet for the life of her she couldn’t place him. The disadvantage made her teeth ache, and out of habit she distinctly avoided staring at his eyes, settling for squinting furiously at the bridge of his brows. 

“My name is Bob.” The man introduced, the name startlingly miss-suited to him and still unfamiliar. She knew Bob’s, of course, but she didn’t know this one. Murphy didn’t introduce herself, there was no point. “Do I know you?” She asked, genuinely puzzled. The man laughed, a deep and disappointingly short sound, raising his own drink to his lips and savouring it like it was better than sex, better than anything Murphy had ever experienced because she didn’t think she’d ever felt as strongly towards anything like this man felt towards that coffee. “Bob.” He repeated, his voice a low, friendly hum with an untraceable accent and an air of amusement. “I am a... friend of Harry’s.” 

Somehow, that explained it. Murphy was a cop, she questioned everything, but Dresden was a blind spot to her, something unquestionable. Usually by design. It was so rare to get a chance to peer into the wizard’s world, especially without his permission, and so without realising it Murphy relaxed into her seat, her body subconsciously reacting to her conscious decision to stay. Bob watched the tension in her loosen with a smile, admiring the alluring combination of softness and hardness of the woman without revealing even a modicum of him thoughts onto his face. The spirit received quite the solid glare for his efforts, one that saw past all of his pretences without even an ounce of effort and made him raise his hands in mock defeat, a sliver of surprise in his heart. She was sharp, sharper than even Harry gave her credit for. They didn’t talk at first, not for a long while, but eventually Murphy broke the ice. 

“Are you a wizard?” She asked, her voice clipped and business like and more than a little defensive. She sat ramrod straight in her chair, and When Leela brought her her coffee she accepted it with a quiet if polite nod. 

“Not exactly.” It was a difficult question, for Bob. He was capable of magic sure, and he had raised many a great wizard, but to call him himself a wizard was a bit of a grey area since he was not actually capable of casting most forms of magic. “But by the stars I’ve forgotten more magic than Harry will ever learn!” He boasted, the response not technically true. Bob didn’t forget anything, if he did then he would just be a defective product for Etienne’s slag heap. Murphy’s eyes glistened in interest, mentally categorising him as useful to her work as she learned forward in her chair, managing to look earnest and interested whilst staring at his nose. “Oh you can dispense with all of that.” Bob waved his hand around in the air, almost hitting one of the many people around him. “I’m not a wizard, you can look me in the eye just fine.” Another visible relaxation, along with a distinct exhalation of breathe this time, and Murphy suddenly looked up at him, her gaze as sharp as barbed wire. There was an invisible battle of sorts, as both of them got a measure for the other, reaching an understanding without the need for a soul gaze. Silence reigned supreme once again, but it didn’t last very long. Bob’s twenty four hours were almost up and he couldn’t afford to be late, not this time. Not after the last time when he had ‘accidentally’ caused another orgy and ended up being almost two entire days late. Harry had almost died, twice. Only he could have a one to one death to day ratio. Still, if he’d had Bob’s help then maybe things wouldn’t have gone so badly and Harry might be a sarcastic little bastard, but he was better company than some of his previous masters. The spirit sneaked another mischievous look at Murphy’s ass as she went to throw her coffee cup in the recycling. Kept better company than them, too. 

“I have to go.” He announced, leaving his own half finished mug on the table as he pulled on his waist coat and dark jacket, slowly rolling down his shirt sleeves and buttoning them with poised, clipped grace. The brisk pace was offsetting against their previous, silent combat and startled, Murphy couldn’t help but blink a few times before putting on her own dark brown coat. She’d taken it off at some point, leaving it on the floor under her chair instead of letting the rain soak into her bones, and bob had admired the way the damp, dark blue shirt had pressed against her functional and yet beautiful torso and... other, areas before it was disappointingly covered up. Shivering a little, the both of them left the packed little hole in the wall in tandem, and even the horrid sensation of just being cold made a small little smile play across Bob’s lips, one that caught Murphy’s attention immediately. “Do you have a phone?” She asked, remembering the kind of havoc magic wrecked on anything technology based and trying to avoid the pang of disappointment when the young-looking man shook his head. “I’m afraid not.” Bob sighed, his voice flat. If he gave her Harry’s number he’d be in a world of trouble when he got home, and he was sure the resident wizard wouldn’t appreciate the questions Murphy would ask about his invisible roommate. Which reminded him... 

“I would ah, appreciate it if you wouldn’t tell Harry about meeting me here if that’s all right with you.” He stated the request like it was exactly that, a request, but he didn’t give her any time to argue. Before Murphy could open her mouth to contradict Bob was gone, sending her a polite nod that bordered on a bow before whipping round a corner and into an ally so that he could jump out of his little ride along, aporting himself back into his skull with brisk haste. There was a brief flash of orange light in those hollow, shadowy sockets and Bob heard Harry cry out his name, almost dropping what looked to be a very failed attempt at a stimulant potion. If the stupid man actually drank that his heart would probably just jump out of his chest, but Bob could see why he was making it so strong: Dresden’s eyes were a deep black, almost purple, and he looked broken. He doubted the young man actually wanted to sleep, even if he had the time to. “Am I late?” He asked, throwing together a more effective recipe in his head as he listened to the man talk. “I mean... no, Bob. Actually you’re early. It’s why I was so darn surprised. Can you give me a hand with this thing?” He gestured to the sickly smelling concoction in his hand and the skull nodded. “Of course, Harry. First things first toss that cursed thing straight down the sink. It’s bloody useless and it’d probably kill you. Obliging, the young wizard tried really hard not to reveal the embarrassed blush working its way up to his cheeks, but Bob saw it anyway. Normally he wouldn’t miss the chance to knock the arrogant wizard down a few pegs, but he’d had a long day, and even spirits got tired some times. Instead he gave Harry his recipe and settled down into his skull, a difficult sensation to describe to somebody who didn’t possess an inanimate object 98% of the time. 

“I’m going to sleep” Bob announced, and within a few seconds of doing so (and therefore before Harry could protest) he was out like the proverbial light.

Presumably, a wizard had stepped under it. 


	2. Flirting?

The next time Murphy saw Bob, he had a new haircut, and a new face, and a new body. His ride along this time had been an older man, with the kind of salt and pepper hair that nature certainly didn't give him and a sharp, business like suit. It suited the face, but not the man, and the moment she heard Bob muttering to himself with that deep, unidentifiable accent Murphy had stared at him incredulously. They'd run into each other on the street, and she'd recognised the voice, deeper and more weathered but still the same.

"Bob?" She'd asked, mentally hitting herself even as she did it. Murphy had seen a lot since she last saw him: real magic, solid. Not something she could just write off as one of Dresden's annoying secrets. It had scared her, scarred her even. Sometimes she actually regretted what she knew, when she hadn't slept in days and the nightmares haunted her into the drink.

Still, just because magic could do a lot, didn't mean she should start seeing things that weren't there, and she definitely shouldn't jump to such a far out conclusion over so little evidence. Bob looked over at her, and he could guess a little of what she was thinking. “Hello, Lieutenant.” He acknowledged, giving her a slight and mildly sarcastic bow and then throwing a vague gesture to his face. “Magic.”

He decided not to tell the police officer he had temporarily ‘stolen’ a human’s body. He had permission, but he got the feeling she would not agree with his actions.

Murphy narrowed her eyes distrustfully, her downright cute face wrinkling up with adorable suspicion that forced a grin to spread across Bob’s face. She opened her mouth to question, to investigate, but eventually gave up when she saw the “You’re getting nothing from me” expression on the man, fully equipped with a cat-like gleam in his eyes. Was he a man? She realised she didn’t actually know. Probably wouldn’t for a while. She had wanted to ask Harry who Bob actually was, but whenever she tried to bring up the subject the promise she had made had risen in her mind, clamping her mouth shut. It was frustrating, bordering on infuriating. Murphy got the feeling that Bob knew this, and derived at least a little joy from the information.

“You’re kind of an ass.” Murphy noted, and Bob’s eyes lit up in mildly malicious glee. “Why thank you!”

The spirit of intellect could have spent his entire afternoon watching the colours flit across the Lieutenant’s face, but he was on an errand. Harry had a client, and Bob had been tasked with getting information from his usual sources (spirits of the never never that trusted him *slightly* more than a more than ‘mildly’ unstable wizard), so instead of talking more he gave an apologetic smile and chose his words carefully. “Apologies, lieutenant, but I’m… doing Harry a favour and need to get going. Perhaps another time.” Even a normal person, hell even an ogre would be able to hear the evasiveness and urge to escape in his tone, let alone Murphy the ‘great detective’. Somehow, her eyes narrowed further, and her lips broke into a vaguely grimace like smile.”Would you like a hand?” She didn’t phrase it like a question. Hell, she phrased it like an order, in the kind of ‘there is no saying no’ attitude that sent a pleasant shiver up Bob’s spine. Still, just because Murphy hit the spot for him in all the right places, doesn’t mean he was going to throw caution to the wind and let her do what she liked. Harry would kill him, possibly literally if he let anything happen to the lieutenant and he found out about it. “Not _this time_ , detective.” He stressed the words in order to give Murphy a little leeway, and a little bit of wiggle room for the both of them. He was more than happy to enjoy the pleasure of her company, just not when he was about to go for a pleasure jaunt in a white vampire nightclub. Business, definitely business. The tits were just a side benefit. Besides he knew what the white king had done to the woman and just because he wasn’t a gentleman didn’t mean he was cruel.

For the first time in what was possibly her entire life, Murphy gave in. Maybe it was because she didn’t know this man as much as she knew Dresden, maybe it was something else, but instead of pushing for answers she let it go. “If it gets serious, tell Dresden to call me.”

Bob shrugged. He probably wouldn’t, but who knows. Sometimes the CPD had their uses. “Yes Ma’am.” The man purred, not even bothering to hide his tone. He expected the woman to snap at him, glare or punch, maybe. That’s usually what happened to Harry. Instead the detective gave him a hot, but not angry look, and Bob figured out why Harry was getting nowhere with the soft approach. Murphy wasn’t the only one interested, and Bob could feel the human he was in rising far enough to the surface that it started affecting his actions and thoughts. It was one literal step forward, and one metaphorical step back. Bob winced, giving the lieutenant a nod of his head before turning towards the club, assuring his host that there would be many, far more interesting woman inside of the Mirage. The spirit wasn’t entirely sure those word’s were true, but the following ones were. _Some women, you just can’t touch._


End file.
